


How Dare She

by saphique



Category: A Little Princess (1995), A Little Princess - Frances Hodgson Burnett
Genre: F/F, Gen, Jealousy, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 04:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14253306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphique/pseuds/saphique
Summary: I hate Sara Crewe, I knew I would, even before I actually met eyes with her, as I am walking down the stairs to greet her at the entrance of the school.Her record and application form said it all. Loved by her father, unquestionably, who helped her achieve self-sufficiency. Wealthy, growing up in India, of all places… Intelligent and resourceful. Fortunate in every sense.





	How Dare She

**Author's Note:**

> Miss Minchin is a cruel woman and I wanted to expose her point of view about her hate towards Sara.

I hate Sara Crewe, I knew I would, even before I actually met eyes with her, as I am walking down the stairs to greet her at the entrance of the school.

Her record and application form said it all. Loved by her father, unquestionably, who helped her achieve self-sufficiency. Wealthy, growing up in India, of all places… Intelligent and resourceful. Fortunate in every sense.

After meeting with her father, as I crouch down to Sarah's height, I instantly notice her free-spirit. I loathe it and I know I have to prepare myself to confront it in the upcoming hours, and for many years to come.

She is witty, intelligent, funny, popular with the girls. Favorited by my sister who had the audacity to come to her for help, instead of me, headmistress. She makes me feel useless, old and powerless.

I deeply despise her.

Out of my grip, questioning my authority, refusing orders or managing to deviate herself from them.

I imagine her cunning, elaborating plans to humiliate me. Only, I will be the one to humiliate her first.

The death of her father presents itself at the ultimate assault. On my tongue, vehemence could be felt, thick and bitter. A little voice in the back of my head is holding me back from being so fierce. But the words come out, one after the other. There, she is an orphan, she knows it. And I pretend to be the generous one, here, as I offer her hospitality.

A triumphant scream is muting that small voice inside me, as we parade together in the darkened hallway, taking the stairs leading to the rueful attic.

Euphoria. The little princess is devastated. Face to face, we engage ourselves into a combat of resistance. She confronts, I respond. Oh, she has the audacity to question my childhood. She doubts the love we neglected to offer me.

How dare she.

Never before could I have imagined I'd want to physically harm a child. I hold back. I profoundly loathe her, I spite warnings of throwing her out in the harsh streets before storming out of her slum, locking the wooden door behind me.

But tears are keeping me from moving. Stagnation as a thunderstorm is mirroring my heartache. I touch my cheek, moist and cold. I'm crying.

How dare she.

How dare she.

How dare she help me realize that I don't hate her, I envy her and wish to destroy what I can't obtain.


End file.
